


Divide

by Hyperius (Euregatto)



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hair-pulling, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Pillow Talk, Post TLJ, Power Bottom Kylo Ren, Ren's not even mad, Rey gets like one boost of confidence and all of a sudden she's top, Sensual Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 08:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euregatto/pseuds/Hyperius
Summary: “We’re all stardust,” he says, his hands resting against her ribs and pulling her closer until their skins meld together. Even here, pressed without air or space to disrupt them, she’s still too far away. “Eventually we won’t matter. Not to the galaxy, and not to the universe.”He’s starting to wonder ifthisis what it feels like to lose everything.





	Divide

**Author's Note:**

> A person: "You should write reylo smut."
> 
> Me, already half a page into the concept: "I'll consider it."

  

  

"The darkness and the light are both alike. I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

  

* * *

  

They’ve been here before, beneath finely pressed sheets and the quiet moment they have both come to believe can only exist when one of them is blistered by emotion. Ben Solo knows better than Kylo Ren what it means to feel something deeper than superficial anger. It doesn’t stop either of them from embracing it, though.

Rey looks at the window, where beyond the mirror to space is a graveyard of starlight and solar systems she hasn’t yet explored. Ren absently thumbs at the ends of her hair while she has her eyes on something other than him for once. Even if she can’t see his surroundings, she must be fixated on whatever’s more interesting than a wall. They don’t touch, despite being so close they could sink together, just close enough to _kiss_.

He etches this moment into his memory. The pulse of her neck where a subtle bite mark lingers, the height of her bare chest as it rises and falls, the flicker in her eyes when she remembers to blink. Both her hands are listless on her stomach. He thinks about taking one and kissing the back of it, then each forefinger, the palm and the wrist and every sinew rope of muscle that lattices them together.

She must sense his thoughts because she scoffs in her throat and looks at him incredulously. “You don’t know where that hand has been,” she remarks snidely, her lame attempt at a joke because half an hour ago it was quite firmly around _him_.

They’re here again. A pocket of time in the endless momentum of space, hollowed out just for him and her; they’ve come to accept that they’re staked on opposite sides of a war by destiny and choice and the strange synergy of the Force. Ren doesn’t know where, within this interim, these meetings first began. (Ben Solo might, if he asks nicely; something about Rey appearing to him, and the more she did the worse the Ache became.)

“We can stay like this,” he says assuredly, “if you want.”

“Don’t be so needy.”

“You’ll find I can’t stop myself.” He pulls himself to her, willing his arms around her body and coaxing her against him. His face buries in her chest, her fingers weave into his hair to anchor him close. He can feel her heart tapping against the cage of her ribs. Like a desperately timed explosive, tick tick _ticking_. “And this,” he continues, fingers digging into her back as if she’ll float away when he lets go, “just you and _this_.”

Rey drags her fingers through his hair, raking tangles from his ends. It leaves him breathless. “You can stay right here, then."

Ren hums with approval. “Keep doing that,” he utters, focusing on the sensation of her nails gently scraping his scalp, and her palms, pressing against his skull with purpose. His chin tilts up so he can gaze at her through slotted eyelids. She leans her face down to meet him and when they kiss, the energy between them amplifies.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks him, once they part. She could peer into the network of his mind, if she _really_ wants to – she would find hard, little pulses of neurons, trying to reassemble his mind with some weak and temporary fixture akin to chicken wire.

“I want to burn this entire galaxy to the ground,” he says honestly, “but it’s quite unfortunate that you are a part of the same stardust. However, I would settle for destroying Jakku, if you so wished.”

“I would never wish that,” she replies with a bitter pang in her voice. She realizes now that he was joking. It’s difficult for her to tell, when he’s being serious, when the First Order could damn well detonate more than just a single planet, even if it is _Jakku_.

Ren nods, pressing his forehead against her chest again. Joke or not, they’ve talked about this already, countless times before – he wants a new order, she wants a Resistance with more than twenty living members. Discussing it again would most certainly provoke her into rejecting their connection. (And it had taken him nearly two months to coerce her into reopening their link; he isn’t keen on severing it again, so soon.)

His fingertips glide over the smooth notches of her spine. She returns to kneading at his hair, combing through from his scalp to his ends with firm and confident strokes. “We’re all stardust,” he says, his hands resting against her ribs and pulling her closer until their skins meld together. Even here, pressed without air or space to disrupt them, she’s still too far away. “Eventually we won’t matter. Not to the galaxy, and not to the universe.”

“But we _do_ matter.”

“You matter to me,” he admits, although he suspects he doesn’t have to. She’s fully aware of everything he doesn’t tell her.

“If I really did matter, Ben, you’d be with me right now.”

He tears away from her like she’s burned him. “You _know_ I can’t do that,” he hisses back, turning onto his other side. The cold, silver plating of the bedroom wall meets him with arms wide open. “I’m not going to entertain your childish fantasies. Get out.”

Rey exhales an exasperated sigh. She waits for a moment, feeling his irritation attempting to sever their link, and then waits longer. Eventually his anger stops cutting through the wires of the bond and she reaches out for him, kissing the back of his shoulder.

“Ben,” she utters, and he emits a small, curious sound from his throat, “why didn’t you come with me?”

He gradually turns to face her again. His expression is distant and his eyes are pained, emanating his constant confliction. “Why didn’t you stay?”

Her fingers are in his hair again. He’s starting to wonder if this is what it feels like to lose everything. “I’m staying now,” she says under her breath. “It’s not by your side but it’s the best we can get.” Then she smiles and she’s so beautiful he can’t recall how to breathe. “We _matter_ , Ben; to the universe, to each other-”

He feels the pull of the light. For a while, and only for a little while, he doesn’t fight it, doesn’t fight her. Instead he falls into her essence and pins her down to the bed by her wrists. Ren begins to wonder if this is what it feels like to find forgiveness.

Rey holds his eyes with hers, the dark and the light yearning and collapsing. His lips are on her throat, biting and searching for her pulse, moving gradually to her shoulders, her chest. She's still heightened from their first session and meets him with a gasp, edged by the closing distance, the crashing of their forces and her moans, her sweet whispers in his ear.

He takes her nipple into his mouth and sucks curiously, testing her sensitivity. She reacts with more static, more of a pained groan, her knees clamping around his waist. Force be damned, he’s already getting hard again.

“Too much,” she utters, and he nods, releasing her wrists. He returns to kissing her chest, leaving marks where he can (a possessive ideology, perhaps?), until she’s coaxing him onto his back. His expression is quizzical but he’s compliant with her gestures.

She settles on top of him. He emits a quiet, “Oh.”

Rey presses her hips against his erection, her sensitive clit directly against his tip and she _grinds_ , sucking the breath right out of his chest. His fingers dig into her hips, balancing and guiding her movements. Her moans are wonderfully loud. Her hands are braced against his chest and her nails desperately bite into his skin.

She arcs her back when he dips inside of her. His tip is against the torrent heat of her womanhood, and he isn’t the kind of person to believe that repetition breeds exasperation. Instead he finds that each of their meetings leads him to wanting her, more fiercely and it sometimes feels like his body can’t handle all of it.

"Too much?" he quips.

A gentle groan. “Not enough,” she replies, one hand finding his cheek and he looks at her like she’s the only world left in the entire galaxy. He guides her down onto him slowly. She may be well adjusted to his girth, but he’s always careful not to move the wrong way, not to hurt her.

Her eyes are trained on his, fluttering when he brushes against her more sensitive sweet spots, but otherwise they are entirely fixed on him and he can’t bring himself to look away. She’s already a panting mess when she settles at his base.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, tracing circles in her thighs, right where they quiver with pleasure.

Heat rushes to her face. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Ben.”

“I’m being honest, is all.”

“I might think you’re in l-” She stops herself from ending the sentiment, but Ren still takes her hands in his and draws her down to meet him.

“You might be right,” he says and they kiss.

Rey pulls back, not quickly but Ren wonders, for a moment, if he’s said the wrong thing. “Neither of us should be,” she tells him quietly, her own little confession and it sure as hell hurts like one. Tears sting her eyes. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Ren lets her sit up again. His hands are back to her waist. “You can leave,” he says, watching her face for a reaction. “I won’t stop you, if that’s what you truly want.”

She says nothing else.

“Should I continue?” he inquires next, and she nods.

Ren is firm with his touch against her skin, feeling her muscles shift and quiver when she finally begins to move. Her back arcs, a heavy cry escaping her chest. He keeps a willful pace, slowing when she gets too close, drawing out her building orgasm. She eases into the motions, face ignited with heat and her pleasure is a strength that Ren craves to feel.

"I want you to stay," he says. "Whatever it is you seek, Rey, I’ll give it to you – I’ll give you _everything_."

When she parts her mouth to counter him he angles his thrust just right, driving into her sweetest spot and sending her over the edge. She tightens around him, shuddering and whimpering, and he can feel her quivering around him.

“I can’t,” she whispers, steadying herself again, “I can’t let everything we’ve lost be in vain.”

He doesn’t want to push the conversation any further and focuses on her again, moving faster, hands clutched tightly at her hips to guide them together. He’s left breathless by the feel of her muscles clenching and collapsing to pull him in. Her intensifying cries are filling the brim of the bedroom.

“Look at me,” he utters, and she does. Her pupils are wide with pleasure, glazed by desire and fulfillment. Her head tosses back and she becomes unforgivably tight, climaxing, releasing – the heat is intense and consuming. He rubs her clit to ease her orgasm out, gently drawing her down from her high.

"Again?" is his next question.

“Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. His pace increases, meeting her each and every time she pushes back down against him, their wet skin colliding. From this angle he’s deep enough to find new bundles of nerves to stimulate and his head brushes something that makes her _beg_ for him. She leans forward into him, panting, moaning, shaking, coming again but this time he keeps going and she’s caught in another build. It might be the size difference between them but she’s so _tight_ he can hardly breathe.

“Ben,” she stresses through grit teeth, desperate to feel him now and until the end of time, and he obeys. He spears into her relentlessly, forcing his name from her lips, their spirits colliding. Her thoughts slip into their bond and for a moment he sees Jakku’s horizon between the sand and the sky. Hot, blistering, intense.

This time, when she peaks above him once more, he can’t stop himself and comes with a desperate moan of her name. Pressed together, buried deep, they become whole.

Rey shakes, weak and satisfied, as she slowly lifts away from him and collapses into the bed. Ren waits for the waves of his orgasm to deplete. Eventually he turns towards her again, thumbing at the ends of her hair.

They’re here again.

This time her gaze is on him as if in wonder. “Can I stay for a while?” she asks him curiously, reaching out through the bond and he smiles.

“I will never ask for anything else.”

     


End file.
